My Catholic Home
by Your Iron Lung
Summary: Being born and raised in a Catholic home had it's up's and down's of course, but through them all, his experiences there seemed to prepare him for the most important day of his life; the day he met Luce Worth. Young Lamont character study.


Lamont lived and grew up in a small, one-story modular type home with more brothers and sisters than he could count on one hand. Their house was in complete disarray, full of clutter from a mother who couldn't bear to throw things out if they still had a use and from siblings who's messes went beyond the boundaries of their shared rooms.

Between the outstanding litter from things gone unorganized for so long and the dirty laundry from teens, pre-teens and young adults alike, there was practically no room to breathe, and even less to walk through. The siblings were always clashing, in a constant battle for dominance over what little space left that could be claimed.

It was rough, aggravating and often times it left Lamont raging for days, but it was home, and it was all he had.

His parents, born and raised Catholic, ended up having more children than they knew what to do with and out of all the kids they'd born, it was unfortunate that Lamont should be the youngest. He was cursed to share a room with three of his older brothers, having to learn to cope and deal with the piles of stress they threw upon him.

Lamont's brothers varied in age, ranging from 14 to 19, and each and every one of them asserted their authority over him in the roughest of ways, so by the time he'd met Luce Worth, he was quite used to having his ass handed to him. He'd suffered through at least 2 broken arms, various scrapes and bruises, and more bloody noses than he could be bothered to remember before his longtime friend could add to the list.

When that stupid cocky blonde idiot had introduced his fist to Lamont's face, at first he'd just rolled over and taken it, as he was accustomed to doing. His brothers held an unfair size advantage over him, and when push came to shove, his shouts of a one-sided argument ringing through his home, that "It's my room too!" excuse going unheard as they smacked him around like a silly little ragdoll- there was no way he could ever come out the victor. He never won, and he'd gotten used to losing.

The Australian's yells and accusations that he was intruding, and that he didn't belong here rang through his head, reminding him of all the times his brothers had yelled at him for silly shit that didn't really matter all that much.

'_Get your shit out of my side of the room, dammit!'_

'_Jesus Lamont, get out of the way! You're always in the way, you stupid tub of lard!'_

The sheer size difference between him and his brothers had made it impossible for him to fight back and claim a stake in what was rightfully his as much as it was theirs, and this caused him to be angry and bitter, in school especially. He had no friends; his teachers were worried about him, yet neglected to act on their suspicions, and this left him with absolutely nothing he could do about his situation at home. No outlet when he needed one.

The young Luce, though. The young little brat who looked like you could snap him across your knee, offered that to him. He'd always played victim to having size used against him, but this time. This time he could use it against this jerk who hit him because he wanted his ball back.

"Get yer fatass offa my property!"

"It's _my _ball you asshole!"

And when Luce hit him, he hit back. Lamont swung his arm right into that stupid blonde's face, and the kid had stumbled back, stunned, much to his satisfaction. It was clear that the Franco-Italian had the advantage, and he was definitely going to use it, and so started a tradition of theirs that would last for years to come.

Although he was loath to admit it, even when Worth had had the gall to point it out after he'd spilled his guts about his most recent break-up, he knew that the only reason he stuck around and kept by the man was because the doctor had offered him a way to deal with his stress and anger before it'd gotten out of hand. Truly, if it weren't for Worth and his odd liking for pain, and offering him an outlet to divert his day-to-day frustrations, Lamont could have grown up to have been an entirely different person. Living in the poor district and having seen it happen to kids he once knew, Lamont considered himself lucky.

If it weren't for his Catholic home and his family's roundabout way of introducing him to struggles too deep for his mind to comprehend, he wouldn't have dealt with Worth the same way he would have should he have grown up as an only child like he'd so often wished he had.

Lamont doesn't count himself a religious man, and sticks true to the 'when there's proof, I'll believe it' way of living, but even so he continues to wear the cross of gold his mother gave to him as a child, and thanks his mom for raising him in her Catholic home.


End file.
